Initiation to Submission

Dear Reader: This is a continuation of a series I began posting several years ago. If you would like the background, please read "Impulse Control 101" and "An Intimate Evening" first. I apologize for not putting these stories into proper chapters, but they've mostly been random blurts that had to get out in their own time.

*****

I spent most of the next week nervous, distracted, and extremely horny. Dinner with Mark had left me excited but more than a little embarrassed. I wasn't sure when my brain had shut off and I'd gotten so cooperative. I kept wondering if the wait staff had any idea what had happened. I wondered if it might happen again. Would I even "let" it happen? My pussy felt sore and abused, but every time I twitched or sat down too hard, I got these amazing little jolts that reminded me of that night.

I thought I should be upset about it, but I kept replaying it over and over again and getting all hot & bothered when I did. It had all seemed very spontaneous, but I couldn't shake this feeling that it really wasn't, and he knew exactly what was going to happen from the moment I got in his car.

I hoped to see Mark at my Tuesday lecture class, since he was usually in attendance, but he was nowhere to be found. Wednesday's lab class was a lesson in frustration. He barely made eye contact with me, never gave me a nod when I thought I had an answer, and basically told me to get lost when I tried to talk to him afterwards. Granted, two of my classmates were totally confused and had asked for help, but all he said to me was "later" with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Maybe he was mad at me. Maybe my behavior really was as appalling as I'd thought, and he was embarrassed too. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I tried my best to distract myself with studying, working on a newly assigned paper for history, and just hanging out with my friends.

Thursday afternoon I saw Mark walking across one of the campus courtyards. I hurried to catch up with him and called his name when I got close enough. He stopped and turned to wait for me, with a smile on his face. Whew! Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. I reached him and just said "hi," then fell silent, suddenly unsure of what to say or do next. He put his hand out and brushed a stray hair from my face, then brushed his thumb over my lower lip, making me shiver. He chuckled and then looked at me expectantly.

"I, um, wanted to thank you for dinner," I stammered. "It was very good and, ahhhhh, surprising." He raised an eyebrow and I felt myself blushing.

He grinned wide. "I enjoyed having you for dinner, too." His eyes twinkled, and I blushed even more. "Look, I have a department meeting in a few minutes. I can't tutor you today, but wait for me after class tomorrow. We'll talk then."

I nodded mutely. He kissed me on the forehead and headed toward the door, leaving me standing there, blinking. What if I had plans tomorrow? I didn't but that was awfully presumptive. I tried to gather up some serious resentment and totally failed. What, exactly, did he want to talk about?

*****

I tried, I really did, to pay attention in class the next day. Twice Mark called on me and I had no clue what the question was, let alone the answer. The second time he kindly repeated the question and I managed a half-assed answer at the last minute. Class finally ended and I lingered until everyone was gone.

Mark snapped his fingers, making me jump. He almost smiled but I guessed he was unimpressed by my daydreaming during class. I picked up my books and approached him.

"I'm sorry," I started. He held his hand up to stop me, and I snapped my mouth shut.

"I've been thinking," he began. "I'm not sure I can tutor you anymore."

My heart dropped and I blurted out "Why? I can do better! You've helped me a lot already."

"Yes, despite today's abysmal performance, I think you are catching on. But that's not the problem. The trouble is I'm not sure I should teach you and....date you at the same time."

I just stared at him.

This time, for once, he looked uncomfortable.

"Look," he started, stepping closer to me, "you're interesting, exciting...I have ideas about you that I'd like to explore, if you're willing. Dinner last week was great, and I want to find out more about you. I suppose we could have more of those different tutoring sessions, but I don't think that's going to be enough for either of us. And I don't believe it's correct to mix that with other instruction. I can help you, but it's going to be difficult enough just being your TA in class. I think you're on the right track now anyway. Can you accept that?"

I stared at him a little bit longer, not sure what I should say. I had my high school boyfriend back home, but we hadn't made any real promises. I'd heard all those stories about teachers trading grades for sex, yet here he was, trying to get away from that. So much for getting an "easy A."

I grinned at him, the thought slipping out. "I guess this means I have to work for my grades then."

"Oh yes, you'll definitely have to work hard. You'll be held to a very high standard."

Why did that sound...dangerous?

*****

He asked me to meet him the next evening at his frat house. He was a sort of 'house mother' grad student with his own room on the top floor. I knocked on the front door and a guy about my age answered. He showed me to the lounge and ran upstairs to get Mark. I looked around the cluttered room, hearing trickles of music and deep male voices, and then the squeak of the stairs as someone descended. .

I stood up to greet Mark as he entered the room. He gave me a quick, awkward hug then led me upstairs, telling me not to mind the guys or the mess on the way up. We ascended a wide staircase then turned to walk down a spacious hallway. Doors on either side were randomly open or closed, and a few guys were lounging in one doorway. I got a few stares and a few friendly smiles.

One guy winked and commented that I could always visit him if I got bored with Mark. I grinned and told him I'd keep that in mind, and we turned to climb a narrower, plainer staircase. We made the same trip down another hall, did another flight of stairs, and ended at Mark's door.

He showed me in and followed right behind me, grabbing my wrist to keep me in place as he closed the door. He turned me toward him, putting both hands up to my face and slowly, gently kissed me. He slid the tip of his tongue over my lips then claimed my whole mouth, probing deeper and harder until he had me moaning into his mouth as I struggled to keep up and kiss him back.

My knees got weak and I clung to his shoulders until he pulled away, ending with an improbable kiss on the end of my nose. He stepped back and waved towards a dark blue, overstuffed chair by the dormer window. I sat on the cozy chair, wobbling slightly as I landed, and he perched on the edge of his bed, facing me.

I struggled to catch my breath and just watched him. He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped, wiping his palms on his jeans and taking a long slow breath.

"Before anything else happens, I need to talk with you," he began. I smiled at him, murmured an "okay" and waited expectantly.

He took another deep breath and chuckled. "This is more difficult to explain than I'd thought."

I frowned with concern, how hard could this be? "I'm listening, whatever it is."

"Well, let me ask you a question, instead of giving you a lecture, for once." We both laughed. "Tell me what happened with you, exactly, after dessert."

My turn to be at a loss for words. I could feel myself blushing before I even gathered my thoughts together.

"I....you....ummmm," I stalled, eloquently, "you were so big and I was so wet, you filled me so fast and it hurt, but it felt so good all at the same time. You gave me time to get used to... you. When you pinched my nipple, it hurt too! You made me jump and it was all too much but I couldn't get away from you and then...I don't know! Something just happened and everything I was feeling just melted together and came out good."

"Did it still hurt?"

"Yes, sort of. My nipple was throbbing but I almost couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Man, that's so weird!"

Mark gazed at me for a moment, then leaned forward and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek. I held my breath, thinking he was going to tell me to go away, I was too weird for him.

"Now I'll tell it to you from my side, so you can understand." He paused and I nodded. "You were very wet and excited when I bent you over, and so willing, and that turned me on. When I entered you, you felt even better than I expected—you were so tight and hot. It took a lot of self-control to not just pound into you and take my pleasure," he grinned at me, wolfishly. "When you jumped, I was pretty sure of the reason, but your comment about 'hurts so good' got my attention. When I pinched your nipple--and your clit, which apparently you didn't even notice--and threw yourself onto me, I was a goner. You didn't fight me, didn't pull away, oh no, you had an orgasm instead...an orgasm strong enough to bring me off, too."

I felt myself blushing right down to my toes...and I knew I was getting wet from remembering. I looked away, not knowing what to say.

"Look at me," he said softly. "I loved the way you reacted, there's nothing to be upset about."

I looked back, cautiously, afraid to see the look on his face. To my amazement he was smiling.

"I suspect that pain, for you, done in the right way, excites you immensely. I'm sure that sounds wrong to you, but as I told you before, don't let others judge how you feel. There are people who are just wired that way; it's like an added flavor."

I nodded, thinking it all through.

"For others, giving that same pain is just as exciting. It's not exactly about hurting someone as it is, well, adding sensation, and controlling the experience."

"Controlling?" I questioned.

Again with that smile. "Oh, yes, definitely. Someone is in charge, deciding what happens next, how far it should go, though ultimately the recipient always gets to say whether it should stop or continue."

A knock at the door made us both jump. Mark got up and answered, a voice murmured in the hallway, and he turned back to me. "I have a phone call. I'll be right back." He slipped out and his footsteps receded down the stairs.

I sat back and sighed. I sort of understood what he was getting at, though I'd never really believed that stuff was true before. I'd read all sorts of stories growing up: cheesy romances, hot stroke stuff in my boyfriend's magazines, and a few other books here and there.

Girl gets seduced, girl resists, bad guy teases and torments her, and manipulates her into falling for him anyway, because he's really not so bad after all. Sometimes it was just sex and innuendo; sometimes she was actually captured and tortured in some way. Those stories had always gotten me hot & bothered, way more than the regular ones.

I thought back even farther, to games with my friends as a kid, getting caught and tied to a tree, feeling disappointed when the rope didn't hold enough, laughing when I escaped but always secretly loving being caught again, especially being held down and struggling.

Then there were those Penthouse stories: girls pissing off their boyfriends and getting spanked, then having really hot sex; people playing at getting tied up so they could be helpless while the other person did whatever they wanted; and the really bizarre ones with whips and stuff that I always ended up looking forward to in each issue. It was something about that sense of helplessness, about having my own body being beyond my control, which really got to me.

Without even thinking about it, my hand slid down to my crotch. I'd soaked through my jeans, no surprise there. A few good strokes and I knew I could cum in about 3 seconds flat.

I heard Mark's footsteps on the stairs and guiltily put my hands on the arms of the chair. He opened the door and apologized as he stepped inside. I smiled as he sat down again.

"I think I understand," I started. I told him about all my reading, and some of my thoughts and reactions. I admitted to masturbating like crazy because of them, and even confessed to trying to get my boyfriend to tie me up once or twice, though it never seemed quite as exciting as I'd hoped.

He chuckled at that, and suggested that maybe his heart hadn't been in it.

"So, yours would be—if I let you?" I asked, giving him a steady look.

He stood up, not saying a word. I watched as he walked over to a bookcase in the corner, opening a cabinet door underneath and reaching down for something. He returned with a pair of leather cuffs.

"Hold out your hands," he said firmly.

As I did, he held one wrist and then the other, and buckled the cuffs on.

"Stand up."

I stood and he pulled my arms behind me, attaching my wrists together with a click.

He walked around me and I heard another click, further away. Then he walked back to stand in front of me.

"Now, for all intents and purposes, you're helpless. Your hands are bound, and the door is locked. Nobody downstairs can hear you. I have the rest of the evening to do whatever I want with you."

I smiled and said "okay," and he laughed, shaking his head.

"A willing victim. This gets better and better."

He took a step closer to me and reached out to pull up my t-shirt. He traced the lines of my bra, and easily found my left nipple. He gave it a quick pinch, making me yelp in surprise. He raised his hand and smacked my cheek lightly, telling me to be quiet. He ran both hands down my ribs to my waist, tracing along the top of my jeans with his fingers, then slid his hands up again, pushing my bra up and exposing my breasts.

He cupped my left breast in his hand and leaned closer to lick my nipple. I tried to stifle a groan as his tongue flicked across the sensitive surface and his hand squeezed tighter and tighter.

"Ow, ow, that's too hard!" I protested. He stood up and smacked my cheek again, harder.

He returned to my nipple, licking and sucking until I thought I'd melt with pleasure. He suddenly sank his teeth in hard. I yelped again without even thinking and twisted away from him.

He sighed, then took my elbow and guided me over to the side of the armchair, telling me to lean forward over the arm. I gave him a puzzled look over my shoulder, but slowly bent over.

He squatted down and pushed the hair away from my face, looking at me with a slight smile.

"If you join me in this, there will be rules for you to follow. These will be your first, for right now. You will be quiet unless I tell you otherwise or ask you a direct question. You must always answer me truthfully. And, if you're about to cum, you must tell me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Say 'yes Sir' please."

"Yes...Sir."

"Good," he said, smiling and giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"Now, since I told you to keep quiet and you failed to do so three times, I will spank your ass three times. You will keep quiet, and you will apologize to me afterwards. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"You understand....what?"

"I understand, Sir."

He stood up, took a step back then frowned down at me.

"Have you ever been spanked before?"

I blinked in surprise. "Ummm, not since I was little....Sir."

"In that case, I think your first real spanking should be a proper bare-assed one. Stand up, drop your pants around your ankles, and lean over again."

I gaped in shock. I thought about protesting about hardly knowing him yet, but realized just how silly that was going to sound. I stared at him pleadingly.

"You have two choices, girl. Tell me you don't want this, and you can leave. We'll be done, but I won't hold this against you in class. None of this ever happened, and you can move on. Or you can do as you're told, and see what happens from here. It's your choice."

I debated for a heartbeat or two, then stood up and asked for my hands to be released. He unhooked them and I shakily opened my jeans, hooked my thumbs in my panties and slid them down. My heart was pounding as I looked at him questioningly. He gestured for me to bend over, and refastened the cuffs again.

He stroked his hand over my back and ass, hovering over my slit as if noticing how hot and wet I already was, then he pushed a finger between my legs, apparently making sure. I could feel myself blushing, even as I started squirming. He applied more pressure, right against my clit, and I reflexively pushed back, hearing him chuckle as I did.

"Are you ready?" he asked, softly.

"Y-y-yes...yes, Sir."

I got a pat on the ass for that. Then his hand came down, hard. My back arched and I nearly yelped again, but I managed, barely, to keep quiet.

"Good girl. Two more."

He stroked his hands all over my back and ass again. This time I could feel his weight shift slightly as he brought his hand down. Again, I struggled to keep quiet. Both ass cheeks burned now. I was sure that I could feel each fingertip point of contact.

"Just one more time now," he murmured, stroking my ass again. I braced myself, and he surprised me by stroking his fingers along the outside of my pussy instead. I moaned and tried to push back against him. He spread my lips apart with his fingers, found my clit, and worked it relentlessly. I squirmed against him and cried out "Oh God, Mark, I'm going to cum!"

He stroked me harder and I writhed against him, peaking just as his other hand came crashing hard against my ass. I went rigid and struggled to keep the scream in my throat. I gulped air and felt the tears sting my eyelids, but by God I kept quiet. My ass burned, my clit throbbed, and I could feel my juices trickling down my thighs.

He stroked me slower, softer, telling me how good I was, how pleased he was, until my breathing settled and I collapsed against the arm of the chair. My shoulders and the backs of my legs burned, and I tried not to cry.

He unhooked my wrists, removed the cuffs, and helped me stand. I pulled up my jeans and he maneuvered me to the front of the chair. I sat down hard as my legs turned to jelly. He wiped away my tears and kissed me softly. Then he stood up, unzipped his fly, and released his cock. A shining thread of pre-cum followed and I stared at it, realizing how very sticky he was. He rested the head on my lips and allowed me to lick him clean, then whispered, "Suck me" as he slid over my lips and into my willing mouth.

Dazed, I took him in and wrapped my lips around his shaft. He wound one hand in my hair and began controlling my head, guiding me. He whispered to relax, and simply fucked my mouth exactly the way he wanted. I tried a few times to actually do something, but each time he would tug on my hair and go back to pleasuring himself.

He continued for long minutes, telling me how good my mouth felt, how much he enjoyed slapping my ass and using me. He told me he would make me exactly what he wanted me to be. His thrusts got shorter, faster, and then he groaned and pushed deep, flooding my mouth with his cum. I moaned and just tried to swallow each powerful spurt. His fingers flexed and gradually relaxed as he softened in my mouth. He pulled his cock free with a wet 'pop', leaving my chin sticky. He sighed then stepped back to sit on the edge of his bed.

After a few breathless moments, he asked me how I felt.

All I could think to say was "Wow!" which made him laugh.

"That's a very, very small taste of what we could discover together," he told me. "I'm going to get us something to drink and I want you to think about whether you're willing to continue or not. I won't hold it against you if you decide to leave. I'll still be your TA, I won't be an asshole about grades, and we can both move on. If you don't run away screaming now, you're still not locked in to anything, and I'll explain more of what I want and expect. The bathroom is through that door, if you'd like to use it." He gestured towards a door I hadn't even noticed, and then left me to ponder.